Kermit

 So...We are there.  We are in the new "Big" City!    Phoenix is actually the Nation's 5th largest city.  However, it doesn't really feel like a "true" big city because it is not as congested as other large cities such as New York City, Los Angeles, or even San Francisco.  Phoenix is spread out and then you have all of the smaller little cities or towns that surround Phoenix however, when speaking to someone who is from the area you will hear them refer to being from Phoenix or the "Valley" rather than stating they are from Avondale or Glendale.  

As I previously noted we lived for a while in my Mom's tiny one-bedroom apartment that she shared with her greasy old boyfriend Skip.  He still makes my stomach curdle or automatically makes my face turn downward with the "eww" face people make when they walk through a stinky area.  His face was literally greasy.  His hair was long and greasy, everything was greasy about him.  

Again, when you read some of this don't get offended by what I am writing, please remember we were three young girls from very small towns where most people were Polish or German...very rare to see anyone of a different race or ethnicity.

We stayed there for a few weeks until the incident happened that forced us to leave.  All three of us girls who drove from Michigan got jobs working at the Metro Center Mall.  Now, for us...this mall was huge! It was like something no one else had ever seen!  The mall had a roller coaster in front of it!  I believe all three of us worked at a men's clothing store called DeeJayz.  The managers absolutely loved us working there.  Of course, they did!  Why wouldn't they?  There was 2 younger male manager and an older (to us she looked really old but was probably in her 30s) female manager, therefore, the male managers loved us young women who were naive, open to doing anything, and since we knew how to flirt with the men that came in, we made a lot of sales.  

While working there we made friends. We made all types of friends.  I remember one person one of us met who was a black Irish man. All three of us found this incredible to actually meet a person from Ireland who was black!  I still remember his name, Kermit!  Therefore, how many men do you meet with the name Kermit?  The only Kermit we knew was Kermit the frog!  This was all new to us.

It was an afternoon after work or a weekend when Kermit showed up at the apartment.  I was in total shock!  I was like, how did this man get to this apartment in the hood?  I was so embarrassed because of where we lived, and then in shock that this man who was actually on the smaller side drove into the ghetto to locate us,  without google maps back then the only way you could find an address was because someone verbally told you how to get to the address.  I asked both of my friends how Kermit knew where we lived and who the heck invited him over? I was so stressed, so humiliated that someone invited another person to my Mom's house!  One friend told us that she gave him the address to the apartment but didn't know he would drive over unannounced.  I guess Kermit wanted to do something with us or something like that because he too was new to the area???? cannot remember exactly. But, we found out that time that a person from Ireland is not too shy to get out and do something with new friends!

After Kermit left, we went back into the apartment and my Mom got in our face, literally approximately 5 inches from the face (more directed to our friend that provided Kermit with the address) with the craziness in her eyes, she leaned forward stretching her neck as far as it could go and jutted out her lower jaw so a person could see her bottom front teeth as she yelled.  She had her arms down straight to her side and her hands were balled into fists.  I wish I could find a photo to better provide an idea of how pissed off my Mom was at this moment.  She started yelling at our friend something about "I didn't tell you that people could come over here, and you bring a N****r to my house!"  "Get all of your shit and get your ass out of my house!!!"  and there were some other racist expletives that were thrown at our friend.  Because I knew my Mom knew that unfortunately, I had the temper that she passed down to me, therefore, when I got back in her face and got in between my friend and my Mom, my Mom wouldn't do a damn thing to me.  You see, even though this lady scared so many people including family members all of her life, she did NOT scare me.

We left packed up and moved to a friend's house (I cannot remember how or who met these ladies) to stay in their apartment for a few days until we could get our own.  

What got me so confused about the racial hate that came out of her mouth that day.  And was still has me in awe is she had so much hate for this nice black guy who was dressed well and showed up to her place.  BUT.. she didn't hate the thugs that came to the house to deal the heroin she loved over anything else in her life  to that nasty man Skip!  

Will be cursing in this post

 This morning as I was walking my dog when my memories started.  Sometimes I know what will trigger a memory of my past and my Mom.  Sometimes it is a certain smell, or when I am looking at jewelry.  I remember her loving turquoise with silver.  She wore the big turquoise rings and silver bracelets.  Not sure why she wore so many rings because unfortunately, our genes did not pass down the beautiful long thin fingers like you may see some women have.  Sometimes a trigger may be me seeing someone walk similar to the way my Mom walked.  I actually had a friend tell me "I like how your Mom walks".  She did have a special type of walk.  She has long legs and would almost seem as though she walked on her toes.  I will tell you that she always had great posture.  Always kept her shoulders back and her stomach tucked in, I never recall my Mom slouching.  

This memory sorta starts from where I left off after the three of us moved in with my Mom for a few days at least.  As you know, my Mom didn't live in the greatest area in Phoenix.  It was the hood. My friends didn't judge.  I guess we were so happy to be in a big city and we were just excited to get out and explore.  Had no idea where we really were, and we were completely invincible, blind, and just down-right ignorant to the area we were at.  Even later that day or the next day when my friend and I walked to the payphone to call home to let our family know we got to Phoenix safely when big lady with hair all over the place and a toddler in tow came up to us and asks us "do you have any crystal?".  My ignorant self looked at my friend puzzled and whispered to her "you have one around your neck" my friend looked at me and says "No dummy!  She is not asking about that type of crystal, she is asking if we have the type you smoke!".  I just started laughing and we both just started walking away (maybe running) from the lady to the payphone.  And at night there would be gunfire.  Still didn't phase us.  

I did get phased when I used the bathroom in my Mom's apartment and saw these old pantyhose hanging from the doorknob on the back of the door.  It seemed odd when I noticed that the hose were tied to have knots throughout them, and what looked like splotches of blood.  I knew exactly what that was, I knew exactly what I was looking at hanging from the back of the door.  These were ties she used to tie off her veins when she was shooting herself up!  I grabbed them and went out to her asked her "what the hell are these?"  She made up some bullshit about her using them when she gets a cut from shaving her legs.  I didn't say anything more because I didn't have to.  She knew what I was getting at and turns around and grabs them and says "see baby, I will throw them in the trash!".  I was still pissed.  But there was nothing I could do, I brought my friends to Phoenix to "save" my Mom and I had to stay there, we had no money and nowhere else to go!  

Do you remember when I posted she was never alone? Or any addicts never start their drugs of choice alone?  That she always had someone else to get the drugs for her?  That is so true!  That nasty greasy, nasty buck-toothed mother fucker called "Skip" was the one that she couldn't live without, the one "that gives me things" "he is good to me Bridget" was outside the next day in the back seat of someone's car with his nasty ass hanging his greasy arms into the front seat making an "exchange" in the car.  Skip was her provider, this is how he kept her happy.

What Happened Next?

      What happened next?  The day after I noticed her hands shaking in the bathroom?  My Aunt Angie, her husband Tim, and their daughter came over.  I want to say it was late afternoon because it was still daylight outside and at the time of the year the sun would go down pretty early.  

      My Grandpa had this God-awful looking chair that I think may have been a rocking recliner. The color of the chair was sorta a baby pea puke color with a hint of gold in the stitching of the material. My Grandma put out a nice spread of things to eat.  My Aunt Angie was making a plate for herself and her daughter around the table and my Mom was sitting in my Grandpa's chair (please make a note....not too many people were allowed to sit in his chair).  Everyone was getting some food and my Grandma asked my Mom if she was going to get something to eat.  My Mom says she wasn't feeling too well so she wasn't going to eat anything at that time.  Before you know it, you hear a whoomp! My Mom actually fell over in the chair, she laid on the floor still sitting in the chair however, the back of the chair was on the floor and her legs were facing the ceiling.  

     We rushed her to the ER in Alpena.  They took my Mom back and the only thing I could remember hearing was that the nurse was trying to find a vein due to my Mom's veins in her arms were actually calloused overdue to the drug use.  They needed to find the vein or a good vein because  she needed to be rehydrated and possibly something else to lessen the side effects of withdrawal.  I think this is when she found out that she, or maybe more like “we” her family found out that she was infected with Hepatitis C.  When you look up how a person gets Hep C., basically it is like AIDS, most common transmittal of the disease is from sharing needles or from unprotected sex, & at that time there was not a medicine to cure or reduce the affects of the disease.  Basically a person will eventually die.  

     I don't remember if she came home or if she went directly to a rehab home in Traverse City.  I do know she went to rehab first and then onto a half-way house to assist with  transitioning  her from drug use to a "normal" life without drugs and maybe how to be a successful productive sober member of society.   The house did have a curfew and there were rules and regulations that needed to be abided by.  I don't remember visiting when she was in the rehab home however, she was successful in completing the entire rehab.  I do remember visiting her a couple of times while she was at the half-way house.  She did make a friend of a young girl that was just a year or two out of high school. I remember this because when I went to visit my Grandma brought up to my Mom that I was asked to go to prom.  The girl said that she had a prom gown I could borrow because she had just worn it a few years ago to her prom.  (please see the previous post about this memory and myself going to prom 😉)

     I believe my Mom was actually kicked out of the halfway house because she left when she was not supposed to. Basically, there is only one-strike-and-your-out bylaws.  She didn't come home after this occasion because the next time I remember hearing from her was when she was back in Phoenix.  After this occasion, there were not any real visits with my Mom for a few years.  The same ol' phone calls, a few collect calls from a penitentiary and then a couple from Prison in Arizona.  The prison was actually outside of Phoenix.  I know it was past the Good Year area but cannot remember exactly where.  

     With all of the different stints in jails over the years, I guess finally caught up to her and she was prisoned for 2-3 years (can't remember the actual sentence) for breaking her parole. 

Withdrawal

      I had to think really hard I will use this next memory and when it happened. I couldn't remember if it was when I was 14 or 15. I do remember it was after I started my job at Big Boy (I almost spelled it at Big Boys with the 'S" because that is how we pronounce it in Michigan😏) restaurant in St. Ignace.  After thinking about it for a while I figured out that I was 15 and a Sophomore in Highschool because I started working at Big boy the summer when I was 14, just getting ready to turn 15.  I also remember the age of this particular visit because I was asked to go to the prom.  And this prom was was my sophomore year.   

       I don't think it was during Christmas time, like I said before I don't recall her coming home during Christmas or spending a Christmas celebration with us.  It was probably in February or March? When she came home this time, it was still very cold out.  On this visit home, she brought one suitcase and I don't remember a man with her this time.  I remember her coming into the house with the one suitcase and she was allowed to sleep in my aunt's room because my Aunt had married and moved out by then.  My Aunt's room was was actually quite a bit bigger than my room and it had burnt orange carpeting (it was the 80s when we moved in) I was always jealous of my aunt's room because it was closer to the living room and basically warmer. My room was at the end of the hallway of our double-wide house (now referred to as "manufactured home") and my aunt's room was at the beginning of the hallway.  We had a wood stove in the house and my grandpa would put a fan in the back of the woodstove to help push the warm air down the hallway. With my room and my Grandparent's room at the end of the hallway, we didn't get too much of the warm air.  I think I had around four blankets piled on me at night to keep me warm.  Later I got a heated waterbed that helped to keep me warm. 

    I cannot remember what color that suitcase was for the life-of-me however,  I do remember what she had in the suitcase.  She came home very very unhealthy skinny this time and when she unloaded her suitcase I remember she pulled out tall high heels and little what-I-call Bobbysocks which had lace that went around the ankles. The high heels were platform heels with probably a 5-inch high heel. She had some other stockings that were a little bit sexy and of course just a few other things such as her makeup and probably personal items...she was always concerned about her make-up, her Baby Soft perfume for you, and those shoes.  It was funny because at that time I pulled out the shoes and I asked "what kind of shoes are these?" she looked at me and said, "what baby those are just my high heels that's all,  I love my high heels" now if people knew my mom when she was in Michigan my mom didn't wear high heels that damn high too often and those shoes actually looked like "hooker heels" and they basically went with the little bobbysocks you know that hookers wore. From the looks of the contents of her suitcase, she literally brought everything she owned and nothing more.  Right then and there, I knew that my mom was doing things that she was not supposed to be doing on the corner of Van Buren and wherever in Phoenix to get whatever amount of money it took to get to the drugs she was using.  I knew there was something more going on because of her how skinny she was.

    I remember she went to the bathroom and of course, I followed,  she gave me big hug. My mom always had great hugs. She put all of her warmth into her hugs.  (My entire family are good huggers) I remember a lot of her hugs, I can still remember the smell she had with the hugs.  She would have on her leather jacket and I would be able to smell the mixture of leather, cool cigarettes, and her Baby Soft perfume.  This time was a little different with her hug...I could feel her clavicle, scapular bones, ribs, and spine very well. She was so so skinny. She was so skinny that one time she did ask me if she could wear a pair of my jeans (acid washed with a zipper & bow at the ankle) and at that time I think I wore size 1 or  3 and the jeans were way too baggy for her 5'7" frame.  That's how thin she was. 

     The same time we were in the bathroom, I noticed her hands were shaking really bad so I asked her why her hands were shaking. She looked right at me without flinching or trying to think about how to answer and said "I'm going through withdrawal baby" The way she said it was like it was a "normal" thing. There wasn't any waiver in her telling me, no sitting down and explaining what was happening to her. Just point blank as if everyone knew what she was going through like it was a normal everyday thing!  Of course, I actually had absolutely no idea what-in-the-world withdrawal was!  I had no idea......but, the next day I found out exactly what withdrawal is.  

Addiction

      

ADDICTION is defined as:

" 1.  a compulsive, chronic, physiological, or psychological need for a habit-forming substance, behavior, or activity having harmful physical, psychological, or social effects and typically causing well-defined symptoms (such as anxiety, irritability, tremors, or nausea) upon withdrawal or abstinence: the state of being addicted

2.   a strong inclination to do, use, or indulge in something repeatedly"  (www.merriam-webster.com)
     There are several forms of addiction and some people feel that one addiction may not be as "harmful" as another due to the idea of how the addiction can harm a person's body physically, psychologically, or might hurt others.  
     There are several forms of addiction: drugs, alcohol, gambling, food, sex, etc.  How or why does one become addicted?  Basically, the want or craving a person has is due to the chemical imbalance in the brain called dopamine.  This is a "good" feeling a person feels when they do or an action and the person always wants or craves that "good" feeling.  The feeding the addiction allows a person's brain to NOT feel the uncomfortableness they may be feeling.  Feeding that addiction gives the person a "calm" in their life.  DNA (family genes) is also a factor in whether or not a person may be prone to addiction or may have an addictive personality.  Addictions that come from genetics may be present in every generation of a family member i.e., father to daughter, daughter to grandson, etc. or the addiction gene may skip a generation such as father to granddaughter.   
    With my Mom, I believe she did have the gene which made her addicted.  It may be the gene from my Great Grandfather on my Mom's side.  From what I have been told by my Grandma is that my Great Grandpa Ciupka was a "drunk" he would drink and then become very mean to his wife and kids.  But, as I got older and my Grandpa got older and as I put two-and-two together I can see how maybe it would have come from his genes also.  My Grandpa had a very bad back and had surgeries for his back, he also had a terrible time with his hands and pain in his hands which turned into what is now called "trigger finger" I think he also had Rheumatoid arthritis.  As he aged I would see and hear that he "needed" pain medication such as Norco.  But again, growing up he never drank too much, take too much aspirin.  But I do know his pain was very real and maybe he did want to suppress the pain.  
     As I may have said in a different post, my Mom broke her back in gymnastics when she was young and of course given pain meds.  And she also was pained with no longer being the "baby" of the family after my Aunt Angie was born.  For 11 years she was the "baby".  All attention on Susie.  Just from those two examples of what happened to my Mom, a person can now see how a person who is genetically prone to having an addiction will become an addict.  I am sure she was thinking "What can make me feel better both physically and emotionally with the changes that have all-of-the-sudden popped up in my life?  Pain meds take the physical pain I have in my back away and the "stronger" stuff will take the emotional pain away."  Right?  
     In the 60s and 70s, when my Mom was in her pre-teen and teen years, there may not have been as much science or studies where people would have known about addition.  Or spoke about addiction even though during the Hippie era drugs were big.  Now-a-days  you can find out what you want to know about anything by just looking it up on the intranet.  Back then, and still now, "addicts are bad people, they are dirty, they are trouble makers" they were embarrassing.  I mean when you think about it, there was actually Cocaine in Coke!  
     I found out not too long ago while speaking to my Grandma, the first time my Mom was involved with drugs was when she came home from the park at 12 years old via Police escort due to having possession of marijuana.  Now, the subject of marijuana (weed) use  and weed being an "gateway" drug which can lead to harder drugs, which can easily kill a person, and then eventually become a terrible addiction is often a subject of disagreement or maybe even controversary.  Some folks who utilize weed as a "social" drug such as social drinkers do not look or have the urge to have a "better" high and move on to harder drugs such as crack, cocaine, meth, opiods, or heroin.  I smoked weed a few times when I was young and never had the feeling of wanting more.  In fact I didn't really enjoy the way it made me feel or how it altered my thinking.  BUT, I truly believe if a person has to smoke weed when they wake up, need it when they go to work, or need it when they end the day every day the person is addicted to marijuana.  That is what I think.
    I don't know what stages my Mom went from using pills or weed to fulfill that "good" feeling it gave her to the harder drugs. I don't know if she went in stages from weed to coke to crack to whatever.  I do know that she and the men she was with throughout the years were following or chasing the drugs. I don't know who introduced or how she was introduced to heroin or even how a person would think sticking a needle in your arm to get high was OK.  I don't know what age she was.  But she did.  And I remember exactly when she was a full blown addict and when she was maybe, just maybe at her lowest.   

     

The Windy Road-Long Rapids

      I want to say I was around 11 or 12? Again, I try to keep my memories in order but sometimes when thinking about them, I cannot really remember my age or what order they occurred.  I think sometimes I combined the memories also.  My Mom came home again and of course with another man (I think?).  To tell you the truth, the amount of times my Mom has come and gone from our house throughout the years by hitch-hiking from Michigan to Arizona or California is actually incredible.  It is incredible because it is a long way to walk and hitch a ride and it is incredible that she didn't show up dead.  I am sure some things may have happened, or someone tried to do something bad to her throughout her many hitch-hiking adventures.  But again, with her little spurts of violence (downright crazy violence) I am not fully sure someone would actually do something to her. Plus she was very strong.  So if someone tried, they would probably get a good fight. This man that showed up this time was not allowed to stay at our house, I think my Grandparents really didn't like this one.   He was tall, skinny, with dark skin and bushy curly hair.  

     This part is a little confusing for me so I know it may be confusing for you...When I speak about the men she came home with, a lot of these moments were when I was  9, 10, or maybe 11.  When I put two and two together, I truly think it was during the time she was with my sibling's Dad.   I know she spent a lot of time during that 3-year span in Michigan in the Lansing area.   She came home to Alpena more often during this time span to visit. Plus she had Tess in Arizona and a picture of the two of them while in California.....Therefore, they traveled to and from California and maybe a few pit-spots in Phoenix because they did know some friends, not-so-good friends in Phoenix.  

     Anyhow, she was home, and she did not have a man with her but she did come home with a man, not sure where he went.  During the visit, the man was arrested. For what?  I did not know. This is what my memory serves me. I do remember someone was picked up because she was very off, very nervous (she usually acted pretty nervous but I am not sure if it was withdrawal or not).  During her visit, my Mom, my Aunt Angie, Grandma, and I were driving home from town.  My Grandma drove a butter yellow Chevy Impala.  You know the ones that had a full seat in front so three people could sit in the front seat? That is the car we were driving home in.  My Mom sat in the back seat with me.  My Grandma was driving and my Aunt was on the passenger side. My Grandma drove fast..." like a bat-outta-hell" my Grandpa usually would say, down the Long Rapids road.  It felt like it was fast back then and it was a windy two-lane road surrounded by woods.  We didn't have to wear seat belts so the windiness would make the ride home a little more adventurous!  If I could take you to the Long Rapids road, I would be able to tell you exactly where this happened.  As we were driving, we see a man walking down the road on the dirt shoulder and as soon as we starting approaching him, which was pretty quickly because my Grandma drove fast, my Mom leans into the window and follows him with her head as we pass him.  I can see this happening to this day.  It was sunny, with so much green in the trees.  We were all happy.  

We all knew who that man was, even I knew that feeling of "uh, oh".

     We got home, probably about 20 minutes after we got home my Mom says she wants to go to the corner store.  The Male's store.... everyone went to the Male's store to pick up this or that and kids would ride their bikes there to get candy or pop.  She grabbed my Grandma's bike (it was a cruiser style of bike, reminded me of the bike the lady rode at the beginning of the Wizard of Oz), no one could stop her because she was a grown woman and she was going to do what she wanted to do one way or another. Now, I had no idea my Mom was such an athlete to be able to #1 ride a bike, and #2 ride the single-speed bike to the store.  Now I do know though that she did have the endurance, she was always able to walk several miles to hitch a ride to-and-from the West Coast!

      An hour later, my Mom never returned.  My Grandpa went to the store to see where she was.  No Susie.  My Grandpa drove around a little bit in the direction it would take her to leave our area and leave Alpena....No one on foot anywhere.   There were only two directions to leave and the next main roads to get out of Alpena and from the house we lived in was a good 10-15 miles away!  Gone....and the man my Mom found so interesting walking on the road....gone..... disappeared.  We couldn't figure out how they even hitched a ride that quickly out of the area we lived!  We lived in the country, folks stuck to themselves in our area and wouldn't think of picking someone they didn't know especially picking up a hitch-hiker.  Gone......Again.....  My Grandpa went back to the store a day or so later and asked Mr. Male if he had seen a bike and Mr. Male said there was one underneath the Thunderbay River overpass bridge right by the store.  It was still there, no one took it.  My Grandpa brought it home and it looked as though nothing happened.  A few days after my Mom calls us from Phoenix.  Whatever she brought with her this trip she didn't take with her.  Only maybe a purse which she would have taken to actually buy something at the store if she took that.  

**   About 2 weeks ago I spoke to my Grandma about how she felt about my blog.  She brought up this memory also and told me what she remembered:  She said one day my Mom told my Grandma that her back was hurting her and she needed to go to the doctor.  (Remember she had a bad back due to her gymnastics accident when she was a kid, and always thought she needed the pain pills....or that was her excuse)  From what my Grandma remembers, she and the man went to a doctor and when the doctor left the exam room they stole a prescription pad.  They wrote out prescriptions for whatever they were trying to get and then tried to get the so-called prescription filled at one of the local pharmacies.  Well, long story short...they got caught and put in Jail.  "The man" had someone bail him out and of course, my Mom got out. I think when he was walking down the road he may have been coming to find her.  

  

 

She's Here and Then She's Gone-Poof! Like Magic!

One memory I have with softball is the time my Mom came home and of course, she came home with a man. You know, for the life of me I don't know if I have seen this particular man this time or if it was a different guy. But the memory sticks with me but, I am not sure if I am combining two different memories. However, of course, I wanted so desperately was for her to watch me play softball.

I believe I was around 9 or 10, my Grandpa was the coach ("get your butt down!" I can hear him say) I was getting really good at the sport after the timing of hitting the ball just clicked and I was moved up from the bottom of the line-up to the 4th batter.....the clean-up batter! I learned how to field at 3rd base and throw someone out. But I actually loved it when I moved to catcher when we moved up to fastpitch at around 11/12 years old. My cousin would strike someone out and I would taunt the batter or throw someone out when they tried to steal. We were quite the duo!

A few days or so prior to one of my games, when my Mom came home out-of-the-blue, I was so happy....my Mom was going to come and watch me play ball. I believe she was there, came with us to the game, and then she left. From what I remember if my memory serves me right, she didn't come back. Why? Well, she was picked up by the police. I think she went to the gas station (to me it was a pretty long walk) to get a soda or something and never came back. If I remember correctly, I think the police came to the game and let my Grandpa know (quietly) that she was picked up. My Grandpa and Grandma really didn't say anything during the game or after the game. I am assuming they didn't want to ruin my game? The good thing is the police knew my grandparents and I am so happy they didn't bring her back to the fields. Can you imagine how embarrassing that would have been to me? At that age? And in the small town, I lived in? Everyone would know. What she did to get picked up in such a short amount of time? Your guess is as good as mine.  The ironic thing about this is I played softball for FOP (Fraternal Order of Police)

About a week later I think she was bailed out of jail. I don't know who went and picked her up. And really, I don't know where she went after bail was made. But she didn't come back to the house as far as I can remember. She would just leave just as fast as she came in. Poof! Just like that she is gone. About a week or so later she would call from Phoenix or California. "Hi Baby Girl!"

I don't know exactly how much money my Grandparents spent over the years getting her out of jail. I do know they probably spent a pretty penny on her though. I do know, it was money we just didn't have.

Black Widow

          I don't remember too much about when my Mom came home or came back to Michigan to find another man and get pregnant.  Yes, there are a total of five of us who were birthed by my Mom.  Steve is the oldest born in 1973, me 1974, Armando I believe 1978 or 79, Tessie 1981 and Sadie 1983.  I had photos of Armando and me when he was a baby.

(Armando and I)

  I don't remember him being born, though.

     Tessie was born in Arizona, so I never got to be around her when she was born.  I was there when Sadie was born.  She was born in Alpena, and I was able to hold her.  I believe the only births my Grandparents were around to see were Steve and Sadie. 
 
   
Steve's Dad was Steve.  Steve died in 1998 by flipping his Camero.  From what I understand, he fell asleep at the wheel.  They say he had narcolepsy.

Steve with his Dad, my Mom and Me

Armando's Dad died from an overdose.  I don't know what year it was killed. I think the culprit was heroin. Tessie and Sadie's Dad was Ted. Ted died from a motorcycle crash.  I don't know for sure what year.   My Dad is unknown, and my Mom won't tell me who it is.  It is accurate, my Mom is a black widow.

  We were all raised by different people.  Not together.  As I noted in a separate post, Steve and I would see each other the most.  Steve and his step Mom Jayne raised Steve.  I was raised and then adopted by my Grandparents on my Mom's side.  Armando's Dad raised Armando until he died when Armando was either 14 or 16, and his Aunt finished raising him.  Grandma Sarah raised Tessie and Sadie on their Dad's side. He died when they were tiny.